Putting Up A 
Prosperous Front 



-BY- 



FLOY PASCAL COWAN 




PRICE 35 CENTS 



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Franklin, Oliio ssi Denver, Colo. 



944 So. Logan Street 



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ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE 

FRANKLIN, OHIO, also 944 S.Iogan, DENVER, COLO. 



PUTTING UP A 
PROSPEROUS FRONT 



By 
FLOY PASCAL COWAN 



PRICE 35 CENTS 

Copyright 1922, Eldridge Entertainment House 



PUBLISHED BY 

ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE 

B'RANKLiN, Ohio Denver, Colo. 



CHARACTERS 
• 

Mrs. Sherwood 

Mr. Sherwood, her husband. 

Maud, her daughter. 

Mr. Markman, the guest. 

Mrs. Trask, the neighbor. 

Mary, the maid. 



OEC30I922 



CID 63209 



'VvO \ 






TMP92-008947 



Putting Up A Prosperous Front 



{Scene — The Sher woods' home. An interesting old 
living room mellowed by time. Walls dull grey, faded, a 
little splotched in places, but restful. The rug is frayed 
at the edges. Old mahogany furniture retains its beau- 
ty in spite of the tattered and faded rose-colored uphol- 
stery. A table, center, holds a lamp of lovely design and 
color, but its fragile shade is cracked and shows a gap in 
one side wh-ere a piece is broken out. On the right is (t 
Ttmntel, on the left well-filled book shelves. There are^ 
doors Hght and left and at the back French windows 
open upmi a veranda overlooking a garden. In the near 
distance is a dwelling partly hidden by trees.) 

{Mrs. Sherwood a small handsome, energetic woman 
loalks up and down the room in a state of excitement. 
Maud sta7ids dreamily by the table, a far-away look im, 
her eyes. She is very fair and beautiful, with a manner 
denoting simplicity and unworldliness. An open tele- 
gram is in her hand.) 

Mrs. S. — There you stand mooning! And he may 
come at any minute! 

Maud — (with slow, happy smile) I hope he will. 
Mrs. S.— But look at this old room, Maud! This 
tattered, shabby furniture ! That old broken lamp ! What 
will he think of us? 

Malid — {demurely) Well, he isn't coming to see the 
furniture, mother. 

Mrs, S. — Oh, you've no more worldly sense than 
your father! Do you think you can win a man like Ar- 
thur Markman when he sees what a poverty-stricken 



Putting up a Prosperous Froyit 



family you have? No man wants to take over the care 
of a poorhouse. {Desperately.) And there's no time to 
do anything. Why — oh, why couldn't he have let you 
know longer ahead that he was coming? 

Maud — What could we have done, mother? We have 
no money to furbish things up with — 

Mrs. S. — Oh, we could have done something. But 
now ! We must ask him to dinner, of course. The china 
isn't so bad — but the napkins — Mary will have to do the 
best ones up. Maud ! Do wake up ! You've got to fix a 
dress to wear. Oh, how I hate poverty] I hate it! 
You'll have to wear that old blue chiffon. 

Maud — {still lost in happy thoughts) It's soiled. 

Mrs. S. — (exasperated, mimicking MauA's dreamy 
smile) It's soiled! Well — you can't appear in a wreath 
of flowers because your only decent dress is soiled. Run 
and wash it quickly and hang it in the wind. It will dry 
immediately. 

Maud — (going slowly from room, readiiig telegram 
again, Jiappily) "Will motor down, reaching there in 
afternoon — " 

Mrs. S. — (looking after her in despair) Hurry, 
Maud ! Hurry ! 

(She ivhirls about the room, turning over sofa pil- 
loios to hide torn places, pushing the most ivorn chairs^ 
into corners, pulling the best ones forward to points of 
vantage; hut all the time showing her hopelessness of\ 
"making things look respectable.) 

(Mr. Sherwood enters. He is a fine looking old gen- 
tleman, considerably run doivn at the heels, and showing 
the effects of long association with the forceful charac- 
ter of his wife. He is ineffectual but dear. Time has 
moved on and left him stranded in the past. He has a 
volume of Plato under his arm and a pipe in his mouth.) 

Mr. S.— What's the hurry, Becky? 

Mrs. S. — Maud has just had a telegram from Ar- 
thur Markman — that rich man she met visiting the Far- 



Putting up a Prosperous Front 



radays in the spring. He's coming this afternoon! You 
know what that means ? That he is interested. That he 
is coming with intentions. It's her big chance ! Our big 
chance! To be lifted out of povertj^ — to — to — And look 
at this room ! Look at the whole place ! He'll think he's 
come to a poorhouse. 

Mr. S. — (looking about him with the vague gaze of 
the student) Why, it's a very comfortable old room, 
Becky. 

Mrs. S. — Comfortable! It has gone to pieces. He'll 
know immediately that we would all be on his hands if 
he married Maud. It will frighten him away! And — • 
and — there are no clean napkins good enough — {goes to 
door right, calling) Marj^, Mary! — And I'll bet you have 
no clean collar that isn't frayed. Oh! 

(Mary enters. She is manifestly the maid of aU 
ivork. The sight of her in soiled apron and with towsled 
hair hnngs additional woe to Mrs. Sherivood.) 

Mrs. S. — {sitting down and gazing at her) Mary, 
a gentleman will be here for dinner. And you'll have to 
be presentable to serve it. Have you a clean white apron? 

Mary — Now, Miss Becky, you knows I ain't got no 
clean apron. 

Mrs. S. — {ingratiatingly) Well, can't you run and 
wash one out quickly? And — the best napkins? 

Mary — {with no enthusiasm) Yes'm, I s'pose I 
coidd. 

Mrs. S. — {another thought hitting her hard) Din- 
ner! There are vegetables in the garden, but — meat! 
Why do things happen as, they do ? Why did we sell all 
the spring chickens yesterday instead of tomorrow? 
Spring chickens would have been so lovely for dinner. 
All we have to show for the sale is a receipted bill. Ben- 
edict got the money before we could even see it. Mary 
— you'll just have to catch that old hen. 

Mary — ^as if that were too much) Now, Miss 
Becky, you know that old hen is wild. I'd never catch 
her 'cept on the roost at night. 



Putting up a Prosperous Front 



Mrs. S.— That would do splendidly! **My dear Mr. 
Markman, please excuse the lateness of dinner. We had 
to wait till the hen went to sleep before we could put her 
in the pot." John, can't you help Mary? Oh, can't you 
for once realize that Plato and all his philosophy are 
nothing — nothing beside the tragedy of having no meat 
for an important guest? 

Mr. S. — (tvith luhimsical smile) All right, Becky. 
I'll do a Marathon 'round the yard after old Mrs. Ply- 
mouth. It oughtn't to be difficult. She's about as old as 
I am. 

{Mary goes out, plainly disgruntled over the after- 
noon's prospects.) 

Mrs. S. — Well, she'll just have to be caught, John. 
You know quite well the butcher won't let us have a sin- 
gle thing till we settle our bill. 

Mr. S. — Looks like to me a city chap would enjoy 
nothing better than just fresh vegetables from the gar- 
den. 

Mrs. S.^ — He might. But it isn't what a guest would 
enjoy that one has to consider, but what is the proper 
thing to give him. {As he still stands looking at he7\ 
quizzically, she cries with sudden descent into plaintive- 
ness — ) Oh, neither of you help me at all! I have to 
make all the struggle to keep up appearances fief ore the 
world. You and Maud are a couple of dreamers. It 
makes no difference to you what people think of us ! 

Mr. S. — Why, I do care, Becky. Only — I seem un- 
able to pretend. I wish I could have been a money-mak- 
er for your sake. You deserved a man of affairs instead 
of a good-for-nothing student But J wasn't able to 
change myself — though I did use to try. 

Mrs. S. — Well, John, all our troubles will be over if 
Maud marries Arthur Markman. {She gets up, contin- 
uing her efforts to better the appearance of the room.) 
We must put up a prosperous front! Oh, dear — if that 
lamp shade wasn't broken! John, don't stand looking at 



Putting up a Prosperous Front 



me. Go and dress up. Can't you manage to look like a 
retired banker or — something like that? 

Mr. S. — I doubt it, Becky. I doubt it seriously. 

(Steps are heard on the veranda. Mr. Sherwood 
goes out door right, as Mrs. Trask comes from rear. She 
is a large artificial blonde, dressed in the very latest 
fashion, manifestly at great expense. She is without a 
hat, and her hair is elaborately marcelled and coiffured. 
Jeivels fit for a ball adorn her neck and ears and rnidgy- 
fingers. A diamond watch flashes from a plump wrist. 
Her manner is a mixture of her conception of a grand 
dame's, and irrepressible instincts toivard vulgarity — • 
tinged by kiridly feelings.) 

Mrs Trask — Good afternoon, Mrs. Sherwood. 

(Mrs S. looks up absent-mindedly , as she tries with 
frantic haste to sew the tattered edges of the faded bro- 
cade on the seat of a chair she is kneeling beside.) 

Mrs. S. — Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Trask? Come in, 
won't you? I'm too busy to stop. I'm expecting com- 
pany in a few minutes, and — 

Mrs. T. — Don't let me stop you, dearie. My! You've 
got some tear there, haven't you? 

( Irrepressible bitt-erness gets the best of Mrs. S., as 
her eyes linger a mowuent on the resplendent vision in the 
doorway. 

Mrs. S. — Several bad tears! It's disgraceful look- 
ing — the whole room. And a perfectly wonderful man is 
coming dov/n to see Maud this afternoon. 

Mrs. T. — Oh, someone she met visiting her pa's 
swell relatives in the spring? 

Mrs. S. — {absorbed in her despondent thoughts) 
It's no use. Mending only makes it worse. 

Mrs. T.— Nothing happens just right in this 
world. Here you're worrying always 'cause your 
things're going to pieces, and you ain't got an orter and 
chauffer and all. But folks just eat out of your hand, 
'cause you and Mr. Sherwood comes from fine old fami- 



Putting up a Prosperous Front 



lies. And here's me and Joe havin' all the fine things, 
and orters and money, and we can't indoose folks here to 
even eat at our table. 

Mrs S. — Oh, you mustn't mind these people. They 
have behaved like horrid snobs. But you and Mr. Trask 
will make you some good friends. Just be patient. 

Mrs. T. — I wouldn't have let on how I minded, but 
you all have been kind and treated us like we was humxan 
beings. What's all these folks got against us and our 
soap, anjrway? It's a thing they gotta use — soap is. And 
Joe's soap is good, with a sweet scent. 

Mrs. S. — (repressing a smile) Try not to mind, and 
just go about your affairs. 

Mrs. T. — I ain't got no affairs now that Joe wants 
me to play the lady. He don't know what a lonesome 
business he's put up to me. I pretend to be tickled to 
pieces living so grand. But I tell you ! When I write all 
them checks for these here organizations, I ain't doin' it 
for charity, Mrs. Sherwood; I'm tryin' to buy these lad- 
ies to come and be a bit sociable and neighborly with me. 
(She breaks into a good-natured laugh.) It ain't worked 
yet. They use my checks for the heathen in forrin 
lands, then pass me the next day and give me this. (She 
gives a frigid stare, and almost imperceptible nod of the 
head.) Here's Ed been going to Yale College. He's a 
good-looking, nice boy. You know he is, Mrs. Sherwood. 
He's proud, and he ain't chirped. But the poor kid! I 
bet the real swells have snubbed him 'cause his pa made 
the soap they wash their faces with. 

(The tivo edges of silk Mrs. Shenvood is trying to 
pull together, suddenly rip off, leaving her tvith the 
strips of the stuff in her hamds.) 

Mrs. S.— Oh, dear! What shall I do? Oh, its hope- 
less. I can't make things look respectable! 

Mrs. T. — I suppose a swell from the city tvould 
think — Lor! Mrs. Sherwood! What would you think 
of movin' some of my things over here till he comes and 
goes? Rugs and all? 



Putting up a Prosperous Front 



Mrs. S. — {too ivr etched not to grasp at anything) 
Oh, could we? 

Mrs. T.— Easy as falling off a log. My butler and 
chauffer could bring 'em over. 

Mrs. S.— We'll have to hurry. He's due at any min- 
ute. I'll push these things into the little side hall there, 
and — 

Mrs. T. — {delighted at having something to do) I'll 
be right back — ^v^ith my loveliest things. 

(Mrs. S. picks up the lamp and carries it out door 
left. As she re-enters, Maud comes from right, holding 
in her arms a blue chiffon dress literally in shreds.) 

Mrs. S. — Good heavens! What happened to it? 

Maud — {placidly) I washed it and hung it out in 
the yard to dry. It must have been rotten, and the 
wind — 

Mrs. S. — Your only pretty dress. You've nothing — 

Maud — But a muslin. 

Mrs. S.— Muslin! Oh, dear! Well— fix your hair 
beautifully. Maybe he won't notice your dress — as he is 
a man. Hurry! 

{Exit Maud.) 

{Mrs. S. ivhirls the chairs and table and rug out of 
the room into the side hall to left. A butler, bored be-' 
yond measure and with his dignity insulted, appears at 
the door from veranda bearing a big rug and a small gilt 
chair. He is followed by a chauffeur, also bored and in^ 
stdted, carrying a little onyx-topped table and arm chair 
matching the other one. They put down the things lan- 
guidly, and unfold the rug, disclosing a huge pattern of 
bright apple green and red, and spread it upon the floor. 
Mrs. T. enters carrying lamp with a gorgeous pink shade 
and a gaudy but costly vase.) 

Mrs. T. — Now, Langsford, you and Chalmers hurry 
back and bring those other chairs and that settee. 

{She looks around as though she were a queen dis- 



10 Putting up a P rospe-roiis Front 

pensing favors. But underneath the surface is disclosed 
a touching delight at being allowed to enter into hei\ 
neighbor's activities.) 

Mrs. T. — (continuing) Looks a little different, 
don't it, Mrs. Sherwood? I just love this Louis Cans 
period stuff. Joe told me when we was buying things 
for the new house: "Now, honey, don't spare expense. 
The best ain't none too good for you." You can see I 
took him at his word. But if it does cost a lot, I always 
think it pays to get what satisfies your taste. 

{Mrs. S. draws her hand over her forehead and 
smiles a bit uncertainly as the effect of the maroon-cov- 
ered chairs, the pink shade, and the red and apple-green 
of the rug sinks in upon her.) 

Mrs. S. — It's all so nice and — and — new. {The honk 
of an auto is heard.) Oh, dear! That may be Mr. Mark- 
man! {The tivo rush about excitedly. Mrs. T. gQcs to 
veranda, gesticulates wildly toward her home. The door- 
bell rings. Mrs. S. twists her hands in despair.) 

Mrs. T. — {re-entering from veranda) Lor, just 
look at them snails, comin' across the garden ! Just look 
at them snails! 

Mrs. S. — {almost in hysterics) Well — just so they 
are coming! 

{They both go to veranda door and beckon frantic- 
ally. The two men re-enter more languidly th<in before, 
bearing chairs and a settee luhich they put down in the 
middle of the room. They go out heads in air. Doorbell 
rings again. Mrs. S. goes to door right, calling:) 

Mrs. S.— Mary! — The doorbell! Maud! — Are you 
ready? 

{Mrs. T. arranges the furniture. The two run into 
each other in their excitement.) 

Mrs. T.— Well— I'll run along home. Doesn't it look 
just too lovely! {Exit from veranda, as Mary enters ty- 
ing on her apron, only half of which is pressed.) 

Mrs. S.— Oh— your apron! 



Putting up a Prosperous Front 11 



Mary — {shrouded in gloom) Well, I wasn't thoo 
iorinin'. I ain't no lightnin' express. {Exit doar left.) 

(Maud comes from right looking very beautiful in 
her simple gown. She is still in a happy dream, her 
eyes holding a far-aivay expression.) 

Mrs. S.— There he comes! I'll run dress. (Exit R.) 

(Mary enters R., followed by Arthur Marknian. He 
is a slender, cultured man, in the early thirties; decid- 
edly good-looking. As Mary goes from room he comes 
eagerly to Maud, holding out both hands.) 

Mark MAN — Oh! 

Maud — Oh ! 

Mark — (laughing boijishly) You see, I had to come. 
I told you I was coming! 

Maud — But I didn't believe you. I thought you'd 
forget your new friend — ^with so many old ones near you. 

Mark. — (making no effort to hide the joy the sight 
of her gives him) You didn't think that! It has been 
two months. Ages ! I'd have been down before, but for 
that old trip I had to make to Lrondon. 

Maud — (laughing happily but shyly) Well — now 
you are here! (She turns, with her hand still in his, to 
find seats, and her eyes fall upon the little gilt settee. Her 
face is away from him, so he does not see the look of 
amazement that comes over it. His gaze is fixed ador- 
ingly upon her hair. She rubs her eyes a^ they encoun- 
ter the violent colors of the rug, and becomes con- 
strained and bewildered.) Shall — shall we sit — here? 

Mark.^ — (sitting beside her) I want to know why 
you write such short letters to a fellow. Mine were reg- 
ular discourses. 

Maud — I'm not a writer. I'm — rather inexpressive 
— dumb — anyway. 

Mark. — You're not inexpressive! Everything you 
do reveals you. It was only a few brief weeks that I 
was — near you. Yet, I feel that I know you — deeply — 



12 Putting up a Prosperous Front 

(It is evident that emotion is mastering him, and he 
turns his face away from her. But his eyes fall v/pon 
the vivid green and red in the outlandish rug. Like oneH 
on 2vhom cold water has been thrown, he sits staring at 
it, not atvare that he has become suddenly silent. Then 
his gaze slowly lifts and encounters the gilt chairs with 
their maroon-colored upholstering. He looks back at 
Maud, ivhose eyes are averted, then again at the awful 
colors. He rouses himself with difficulty. The whole 
current of his emotion has become dammed. He speaks 
formally, with constraint.) Er — your friends, the Far- 
radays, are all well — but I suppose you have heard from 
them directly. 

Maud — Yes — oh, yes. (After a pause, trying to 
make conversation.) They were planning to go to the 
mountains. 

Mark. — (absently, perfectly enthralled by the de- 
sign in the rug) Mountains? Yes — yes, quite so. Hope 
they don't fall in their volcano. 

Maud — (horrified) Oh, is there a volcano there? 

Mark. — Oh, not volcano! Ha, ha! Airplane! On 
the journey, you know. Volcano! Ha, ha! That's rich. 
They go up in their airplane, you know, to (his eyes sud- 
denly alighting on the vase) Great Scott! 

Maud— To Great Scott? 

Mark. — No — no! Great Neck! From Great Neck. 
Yes, yes, that's where they start from. Great Neck, 
Long Island. Ha, ha! They go over and start from 
Great Neck and go up — up to (utterly overwhelmed by 
the conflicting colors) Good Heaven! 

Maud — Good Heaven? 

Mark. — Good Haven! Their mountain place, you 
know. Ha, ha! I am getting mixed in names — am I 
not? Ha, ha! 

Maud — Yes — you — we are. Ha, ha! 

(A silence falls, which both in turn try to break, 
opening their lips, but closing them again. Mrs. Sher- 



Putting up a Prosperous Front 13 



wood enters from right. She has on aii old silk, hut looks^ 
very much of the grand dame in if) 

Maud — Oh, mother, do come in. This is Mr. Mark- 
man. My mother — 

Mrs. S. — (shaking hands with him cordialhj) How 
do you do, Mr. Markman? We are so glad to see you. 
Valeton is such a quiet old place that we are doubly glad 
to welcome visitors from the great outside — 

(Just then an awfid clatter arises from, the garden 
— the loud squawking of a hen in mortal fright, flappinig 
of wings, then a streak of black and white goes loith fhj- 
ing leap, squawking as it goes, across the veranda, fol- 
lowed by Mary and Mr. S. on the run. The affair is ut- 
terly destructive of conversation in the room. All make 
brave efforts.) 

Mark. — Its a great pleasure — 

Mrs. S. — The trip down — 

Mark. — Oh it was indeed — 

Maui> — The roads are — 

Mark. — (altogether lost in consternation and be- 
wilderment, but with his manner perfect) Oh, apple- 
green! Apple green! 

Mrs. S. — Apple green? 

Mark. — Er — apple pie! Er — in apple pie order! 
Yes, the roads were in apple pie order — 

(Mr. S. appears at door right. His face is flushed, 
and there is a black-and-white feather clinging perkily/ 
to his forelock. Mrs. S. sees him, and despair settles on 
her face. The guest also is facing him. She has t6 
ivatch him approach with the feather aloft on his schol- 
larly head. His triumphant nod to her says plainly, "We 
caught her." She goes toward him, quickly, fanning her- 
self vigorously and succeeds in wafting the feather tOi 
the floor.) 

Mrs. S. — (faintly) My husband. 

(The ttvo men greet each other cordially. Mr. Sher- 



14 Putting up a Prosperous Front 

wood looks about, emdently seeking his customary chair. 
His eyes encounter the strange nig and furniture. He 
inibs his eyes and looks again.) 

Mr. S. — My dear! My eyes are queer. I believe I 
must have a touch of vertigo. I — 

Mrs. S. — (getting up hastily) Oh, you're all right, 
my dear. It's the heat . Maud, perhaps Mr. Markman 
would enjoy seeing the garden. The rose arbor is espe- 
cially lovely now, all in bloom. 

Mark. — (eagerly) I would love to see it. 

(Markman and Maud go through door to veranda. 
Mrs. S. sits down wearily.) 

Mr. S. — But Becky, I tell you there is something the 
matter with my eyes. I see violent green and red in that 
old rug. And the chairs — they all look shrivelled up and 
glittering. That running must have upset me. 

Mrs. S. — Silly! These are Mrs. Trask's things. She 
loaned them to me. 

Mr. S. — Oh, Becky! How could you borrov/ from 
that terrible woman? The things are terrible, too. 

Mrs. S. — Well, at least, they aren't shabby. Any- 
body could tell they cost a lot of money. 

Mr. S. — (deeply mortified) Yes, money. That makes 
it all the worse. For him to think we had money and 
bought hideous things like these. The acme of bad taste. 

Mrs. S. — I don't care. He won't think a destitute 
family will be on his hands, anyway. And — (loiping her 
eyes) you might not have come in with a chicken feath- 
er in your hair. 

Mr. S. — (contritely, but with dignity) I'm sorry, 
Becky. But I'm not used to pursuing chickens. I don't 
like all this pretense. If he is any sort of man the sight 
of our old things wouldn't have stopped him if he wanted 
to m.arry Maud. He'd rather know us as we really are. 

{He goes out. Mrs. Trask rushes in from the gar- 
den, flushed, excited, radiant, with a telegram in her 
hand.) 



Putting up a Prosperous Front 15 

Mrs. T. — Oh, — IVe gotta have my things back 
right away! This has just come from Ed — He's on his 
way down with a swell friend. What do you think! One 
of the Vandergrif ts ! They're goin' to spend the week- 
end. Ain't it wonderful? A Vandergrif t! 

Mrs. S. — But you can't take the things back now, 
Mrs. Trask! My guest is still here. It would be dread- 
ful— 

Mrs. T. — Well, I gotta have 'em. Of course! My 
men are coming right over — 

Mrs. S. — Oh — my dear Mrs. Trask! Our guest is 
out there in the arbor. What on earth will he think if he 
sees the furniture being carried away before his eyes? 
Oh, you can't want to subject me to that embarrassment! 
You can't. 

Mrs. T. — You think I'm going to have a skimpy 
drawing room when Mr. Vandergrift, my son's friend, 
arrives? Just to let you put up a front before your 
daughter's beau? Not much! No telling what'U come 
to us from this visit. My son'll be invited to their home. 
So'U we — Joe and me! 

{Mrs. S. stands utterly still as the other charges ex- 
citedly about.) 

Mrs. S. — Mr. Markman will be leaving tonight. 
Couldn't you — wouldn't it be an easy matter in your 
big house to avoid taking him into that one room to- 
night? Then early in the morning — 

Mrs. T.— Well of all the— No! I don't entertain 
with no closed doors. I got a spacious house and it must 
look just grand tonight. Just grand! And we gotta 
hurry, 'cause Ed telegraphed from somewhere near — 
where he and Mr. Vandergrift was. (Goes to veranda 
door, beckoning with both hands toward her home.) My 
goodness! You act like the things wasn't mine! I'm 
sorry I loaned 'em. Folks don't appreciate nothing you 
do for 'em. 

Mrs. S. — (desperately, as the men are heard step- 



16 Putting up a Prosperous Front 

ping along the gravel path.) Oh, this is too mortifying! 
I can't — Oh, couldn't your men carry the things out 
through the front door, along the street? The hedge 
would then hide them from the garden. 

Mrs. T. — It's a good deal to ask of my butler and 
chauffer to carry furniture along the street, but — {as 
the men enter) I'm going to ask you boys to go out that 
way 'cause there's a gentleman in the garden. 

{Mrs. Sherivood, as though the whole scene were in- 
tolerable, exits door R. The men lazily carry the things 
out, ichile Mrs. T. hustles excitedly about, and follows 
them out, carrying lamp.) 

{Mr. S. enters from veranda. On seeing the room 
bare, he rubs his eyes, and runs his hand through hist 
hair, utterly heivildered. Mrs. Sherivood re-enters, cry- 
ing.) 

Mr. S.— Why, what's the matter, Becky? 

Mrs. S. — She carried them back! Son — Vander- 
grift!— Oh! 

Mr. S. — (coming up and putting his arm around 
her) Well, it's far better to have nothing in the room 
than those hideous things. Don't cry, dear. 

Mrs. S. — {arousing herself to the necessity for ac- 
tion) Oh, we must hurry and put the old furniture 
back. (She looks out of door to garden.) They are safely 
out of the way for the present. (She begins to push the 
things in from the hall and he helps.) I must say I 
think he is a very nervous young man, John, and ill at 
ease. His conversation is anything but brilliant. 

Mr. S. — (sitting down in his old chair with a sigh 
of content and lighting his pipe) Oh, a fellow in love — 
er — however, they don't seem to be making much head- 
way. The only words I caught had to do with boating 
and motoring. In a rose arbor, too. If there is anything 
Maud cares less about than boating and motoring, I don't 
know what it is. 

Mrs. S. — (whose spirits are registering zero) What 



Putting up a Prosperous Front Yl 



on ea^rth will he think when he comes in and finds, every- 
thing in the room different? ' ' 

Mr. S. — He will rejoice. 

Mrs. S.— How can you be so unperturbed? Imagine 
your sensation if you were a guest. You leave a room 
with one set of furnishings. You return in a few min- 
utes and there is an entirely different set. What would 
you think of your hosts? 

Mr. S.— Well, if the first set were like those of Mrs. 
Trask's, I'd think they liked me and wanted to spare me 
further anguish. 

Mrs. S. — (ivalking to and fro) It is simply unbear- 
able, John ! We must keep him out of here. It is the only 
way. We simply can't be made absurd in his eyes. 

Mr. S.— But how— 

Mrs. S. — Go out in the garden and stay. If they 
start to come this way detain them. Show him your 
bees, or your rhododendrons, or— duck him in the little 
pond— 'anything ! So you stop him. When dinner is ready 
bring him through the old conservatory— 

Mr. S.— But tonight, Becky? You can't make him 
sit out in the — You know, the mosquitoes — 

Mrs. S.~(with faint smile) If he's much in love he 
won't mind the mosquitoes. If he isn't, it won't matter 
if he does mind. Now, John, don't go dreaming and for- 
get! 

Mr. S. — {getting up reluctantly) I'm dreaming now 
Becky. Having a nightmare. I don't like all this. {Exit.) 

{The doorbell rings. Mary pokes her head in from 
door right. Her hair is undone and stands bushily about 
her face.) 

Mary— Lor, Miss Becky, I can't answer no doorbell. 
Fse combin' my hair tc serve dinner — 

Mrs. S.— I'll go, Mary. Did your dessert come out 
all right? 

Mary— Yassum— all 'cept the cream what cuddled 
some. 



18 Putting up a Prosperous Front 



Mrs. S. — Oh, a little thing like that doesn't matter 
at all. 

(Mrs. S. goes out from left, Mary from right. There 
is silence for a few seconds. Then steps are heard out- 
sijie on the gravel, and the voices of Mr. Sherwood and 
Markman chatting pleasantly. This goes on for a mom- 
ent, then the steps and voices come nearer, and the twd{ 
wen enter from the veranda, arm in arm, very much ab- 
sorbed with each other.) 

Mr. S. — ^Yes, I love that old portrait, myself. Glad 
you want to look at it again. 

{They approach the mantel with their eyes lifted 
to the portrait above it.) 

Mark. — It's a Stuart, is it not? 

Mr. S.— Yes. That is my father. 

Mark. — A fine example of Stuart's work. I noticed 
it when I was in here, but I wanted to look at it more 
leisurely. 

Mr. S.^ — {suddenly realizing that he has done what 
his wife told him not to) Oh, dear! Er — ^the garden is 
so lovely — shall we — ? I want to show you my bee-s! 
(as Markman shoics no enthusiasm for bees) Or my rho- 
dodendrons. (Desperately, as Markman does not move) 
Or — or — duck you in the little pond — 

Mark.— What! 

Mr. S. — (taking Mm by the arm and urging him to- 
ward the veranda door) Maud is in the garden — 

Mark. — No — she went upstairs for something, did- 
n't she? 

Mr. S. — (giving way to panic) I'll get her — just a 
second — excuse me — (Exit door right.) 

(As soon as he is alone Markman turns quickly, as 
though the picture had been but a pretext for getting^ 
back into the room, and begins to look at the furniture. 
Astonishment spreads over his face, then delight. He 
bends over one of the old chairs, running his hand tovJk 
ingVy along the ivood of the back.) 



Putting 2ip a Prosperous Front 19 



Mark. — Beautiful ! Beautiful ! 

(Maud comes in, and at sight of his rapture drops 
into a big chair and gives an irrepressible sigh of relief.) 

Mark. — (turning and seeing her) Oh, I can't help 
my enthusiasm! (Boyishly) You see, fine old mahog- 
any is my hobby. 

Maud— Your hobby!— THIS? 

Markman — I have some lovely pieces myself, that 
I've collected with no end of trouble. But nothing so 
beautiful as this! 

(Maud sighs again, and a faint smile breaks over 
her face as she looks at him. She makes such a loveli^, 
picture ivith her fair head against the dark rich 'WOoc\ 
of the chair, that he is unable to take his adoring eyesf 
from her) 

Markman — (softly) I've dreamed and dreamed of 
you — as you look now — ^with the lovely old things about 
you. (He comes slotoly toivard her and bends over her. 
Her face trembles under his ardent gaze and floods loith 
answering light. He bends nearer and kisses herl Then 
sits on arm of chair and slips his arm about her, drawing 
her face to his shoulder. Takes a ring from his pockety 
and puts it on her fing&r.) It's a perfect ruby, but — 
(laughing softly) I wish I could have found something 
lovelier ! 

Maud — Oh — ^you couldn't have! 

Mark. — I could hardly wait to get here — to tell you 
— to ask you! But — something fell upon my spirits — 

Maud — It was that awful furniture. (Courageous- 
ly.) . We were ashamed of these old things because they 
were so shabby. So we borrowed that — ^that stuff from 
(pointing through door at back to house across the umy) 
Then — she insisted on having it back — 

(They both break into peals of laughter.) 

(Mr. Sherwood approaches from veranda just as 
Mrs. S. comes in from left. He squares his shoulders and 
pats his chest as he directs his wife's gaze to the two irt 



20 Puttirig uj? a Prosperous Front 

the chair, luith an expression that says, "I did it! I 
brought this to pass." Markman turns his head and sees 
them, and gets up smiling.) 

Mark. — Well — you see how things are. May I have 
her? 

(Mr. S. shakes his hand cordialhj.) 

Mrs. S. — I want you to know that Maud and Mr. 
Shei-wood had nothing to do with borrowing those 
things. I did it. Everything looked so shabby — 

(The strain and fatigue of the day have mcide her 
face look very appealing. A sense of the struggle and 
hard times she must have had touches Markman. He 
comes over to her and puts his arm about her shoulders.) 

Mark. — Never mind ! You are going to have all the 
lovely new things your heart craves. 

{Mary comes to door on right wonderfully rigged 
up, coiffured and aproned, but managing in spite of all 
to look perfectly absurd.) 

Mary — Dinner's served. 

{All smile as they follow her from the room. Mrs. 
Trask comes in from veranda and beckons to Mrs. S., 
loho lets the others go on, and turns back.) 

Mrs. T. — Oh, Mrs. Shei-wood! I'm so sorry I did 
you that way. I'm ashamed. And there wasn't any use 
in me gettin' so upset. Why, you won't believe it — but 
that Mr. Vandergrift is just as plain as you or me! Him 
and Ed are out in the yard digging fishworms to go fish- 
in' tomorrow! 

(They both laugh.) 

Mrs. S. — Well the day has ended very happily, after 
all. Maud is engaged. 

Mrs. T. — (beaming) Oh, dearie! I'm so glad! My 
pretty things did help, then, didn't they? 

CURTAIN 



YOU mi BE GLAD TO KNOW OF 

THESE NEW PLAYS 

Training Mary 

By Mary Shaw Page. A bright 1-act play with sim- 
ple stage setting. William, husband of Mary, essays 
to train Mary, especially along the lines of correcting 
carelessness. As is always the case, William -rets in 
deep water, but finally wadss out. 2 males, 4 fe- 
males, and plays about 45 minutes. Price, 25c. 

The Hired Man's Courtship 

By Alice Cripps. A short comedy-drama in 2 acts. 
Captain Edwards tires of wealth and the city, and 
procures work on Horton's farm, only to find that the 
farmer's daughter is an o!d sweetheart. Because of 
an intrigue on the part of the captain's cousin, an es- 
trangement takes place, which ends happily when the 
captain finds the source of certain stories and re- 
futes them. Aunt Hepsey, Jim and Ezra (colored), 
add comedy to the play. Plays about 45 minutes, 
and is for 3 males and 3 females. Price, 23c. 

Merely Anne Marie 

A comedy in 3 acts by Beulah King. 3 males, 3 r> 
males. Time, 2V2 hours. The scenes are laid in a 
fashionable boarding house, and the characters are all 
distinct types and worth while. A successful play- 
wright, desiring to escape notoriety, seeks seclusion 
at Mrs. Teague's and becomes the hero of Anne Ma- 
rie, the dining room maid. The dialogue is bright, 
the situations clever and the story ends happily. 35c. 

A Bit of Scandal 

By Fannie Barnett Linsky. Comedy-drama in 2 acts. 
Francina, who is to play at the recital, composes her 
own number. On the evening of the recital, Mary 
Sherman, who precedes her on the program, plays 
Francina's compositions, which she has stolen. The 
reasons for the theft all come out later and of course, 
all ends v/ell- Nine characters. Plays about 1 hovir. 
Price, 3Sc. 

Miss Burnett Puts One Over 

By Ethelyn Sexton. A rollicking 1-act girls' play for 
6 characters. Barbara's mother has a friend, Ann Bur- 
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tention of giving a generous sum to the school. The 
girls, wishing o gain her good ' will, practice their 
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guise and has much fun at their expense. All ends 
well and the school gets /the money. Plays about 45 
minutes. Easy setting and costumes. Price, 25c. 

Eldridge Entertainment House 

FRANKLIN, OHIO also DENVER, COLO. 

944 S. Logan St. 



■fiiiliii 

016 102 809 5 




HERE is a list of very clever child- 
impersonations or good encores 
for children. The lines are by 
Margaret Fassitt, the music by Anna 
and Harry C. Eldridge. They v^ill 
be winners on your program. 



Ain't It The Limit? [ _ 

When You Ask About Your Fixins I soc 



Both in 

one 
number 



It Santa Shouldn't Come To Me) _ 
I've Been And Had The Measles I "sa 



Both in 

one 
number 



I Wish I Had A Ginger-cake [ 

Our Tvnns f soc 



Both in 

one 
number 



When Grandpop Was A Boy 
When Daddy Took Me Up Y 
In A Tlane 



Both in 

one 
number 

50c 



Eldridge Entertainment House 

FRANKLIN, OHIO also DENVER, COLO. 

944 S. Logan St. 



